Because Voldermort Is Alien Enough
by IronSpockMaster
Summary: Doctor Who end of series three, Harry Potter GoF. Don't read if you don't like slash.The TARDIS lands at Hogwarts.It does tie in with the End of Time so it's not completely outdated.Deatheaters, Daleks and Polyjuice potion. I DON'T OWN HP OR DW
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Finger Painting (With the Enemy)**

"Come on, one more trip?" the Doctor begged, standing at the door of his blue police box. Martha's expression stayed the same: empty. He was considering going down on his knees, begging.

/Yes, you would, wouldn't you, Doctor/

/Get out of my head, Master, I'm busy/ He couldn't deal with this at the moment, didn't want to deal with anymore of the Master's crap.

/Or what?/ The Master was challenging him, winding him up.

/I'll deal with you later/ He closed the imaginary door in his head, fastening the padlock moments after the Master's response.

/I look forward to it, Doctor/

"Are you ok?"

"Uh… yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Spaced out for a moment. Woah, that was weird." Talk fast. Talk fast so she doesn't realise you're messed up. So she doesn't realise how much you need her to keep you sane. Especially with _him _on board.

"Fine, I'll come with you." Martha gave him a little smile. "Only one trip, though, and I want you to return me right here, right now." She paused. "You can do that, right? You can get us there and back without messing it up?"

"Of course, what do you take me for?" the Doctor promised, secretly going into panic mode. He could do it, couldn't he?

"Ok, that's sorted then!" She was glad she wasn't leaving this way of life quite so soon, but deep down was that feeling she couldn't shake off, the knowledge that she would have to return to her family before too long.

_You can't run forever, Martha Jones, _her conscience whispered.

"One trip," she promised herself. Only one trip.

"Dinner for three," the Doctor said, waving his arms in a large arc, gesturing at the table.

"Candles, how quaint," the Master quipped. "Any possibility you could remove me from these chains? Or are you going to feed me like a baby? The Doctor waved his sonic in the direction of the Master, who collapsed onto his knees, rubbing his wrists and the angry red welts which had appeared there. He glared at the Doctor.

"I don't want to keep you tied up-"

"Like an animal!" the Master cut in. The Doctor looked at him with soft, brown eyes.

"Really, I don't."

"You don't trust me, Doctor," he spat out. The Doctor flinched, but the Master continued. "It's worse, though, isn't it? You don't trust yourself. That's why you brought her along." He jerked his head at Martha, who was gazing at him with a sort of fixated disgust. "You don't trust yourself around me."

"Master..."

"I'm eating alone." He heaved himself to his feet, wincing slightly as he stood, then took a plate. Silently he spooned himself a small – no, tiny – amount of food and stalked out of the room.

"You have to eat more than that. Do you want to starve?" But the Doctor was only talking to the Master's retreating back. "There's a kitchen third on the left, you can eat in there." The Doctor knew when he needed to compromise.

Martha stared at her plate, prodding the food with her fork. The Doctor had gone out of his way, actually cooking for once as opposed to serving up food straight out of the synthesizer. He had slaved for hours, for her. Or maybe the Master. Or maybe both. She would have appreciated his efforts, but for the fact that that disgusting piece of filth was travelling with them.

"One more trip," he had promised her, but had kept this secret to himself until she was committed. This wasn't the Doctor she knew.

"How can you have him near you?" she burst out, unable to contain herself any longer. The Doctor looked up at her silently, chewing slowly. "I mean, remember what he's done. To me, to you, to my family!" Still silence. "Doctor, answer me! How can you hold a conversation with him after what he did to earth? After the trauma we went through trying to stop him?" There was a desperate glint in her eye and her hands were shaking as she gripped the table to steady herself. The Doctor looked at the Master's empty chair, unable to face Martha.

"I know how you feel," he began in a whisper.

"No you don't! How could you?"

"I don't want to talk about it." He still wasn't looking at her. "But the Master is all I have left."  
"You have me..."

"Not for much longer." And Martha couldn't deny that. "I need the Master. I know you hate him, detest him even, but please, for my sake, just ignore him. This is our trip, ok? And he's already shown us that he would rather not grace us with his company." Martha didn't feel much better, but she managed to eat the food in front of her to keep her Doctor happy.

"I'm bored," the Doctor whined, his fingers hovering over the humming controls of the TARDIS. "Let's do something fun!" He pulled on a lever, pressed buttons excitedly and all but bounced off the ceiling. "Pick a place, Martha, pick a time. This is your trip!" Martha let her eyes wander over the TARDIS's controls, racking her brains and searching for inspiration. Anywhere she liked...

"The future. New Earth!" The Doctor frowned.

"I've taken you there before."

/You haven't taken me there, Doctor/ The Master's voice entered the Doctor's mind like an electric shock. He hadn't been expecting it.

/GET OUT OF MY HEAD!/ He felt the Master's conscience reel away from him, and glad as he was to be free of the violation of his privacy, he missed the sensation, just a little.

"I know, but I want to see it in all its glory. The way you had expected it to be when you took me there. The way it wasn't. Plus, you told me it had excellent shops, and I haven't treated myself to a little retail therapy for, oh, over a year now. Please, Doctor?" The Doctor pulled on yet another lever and they felt the TARDIS jolt beneath them.

"I did say anywhere..."

"Don't forget any time..." They burst out laughing in synchronisation. It was like before, before the Year That Wasn't. It was something special.

/Can I come, Doctor?/ The Master tentatively probed his way into the Doctor's mind.

/You're taking advantage of this new connection/

/As if _I _would take advantage of something. And don't pretend you don't like it, Doctor/ The Doctor had no reply. He watched Martha pacing the TARDIS, waiting for him.

/You can come/ he relented.

"You said it was my trip," Martha whined, as the Doctor led the Master into the main control room, before realising how childish she sounded and shutting her mouth. The Master laughed.

"Just ignore him," the Doctor soothed. "It's safer to take him with us than leave him here. And he's attached to me. Like a bond. Not entirely sure how it works, but he can't leave my side. He's already tried."

"All bonds can be broken," the Master muttered.

"Not this one," the Doctor said cheerfully. "Anywhere outside of the TARDIS and he's stuck to me like glue. The TARDIS kinda overrides it, giving both him and me more freedom. Otherwise I woulda ended up killing him by now."

/Don't joke like that, Doctor. She wishes you would kill me. Can't you see the pain you're causing her?/ Mocking laughter echoed through the Doctor's head.

"Shut up!" he screamed in the Master's face. The Master flinched; he hadn't been expecting the Doctor to reply out loud. Martha took a step back, and the Doctor sent a mind blow into the Master's head, laced with hatred.

/You'll have to do better than that, Doctor. I can barely feel it over these drums/

"Out," the Doctor said out loud to the Master, pushing him out of the TARDIS whilst blocking his mind from further comments. The Master waited outside. Martha turned to the Doctor.

"I can't understand how you can bare to be near him? He's evil!"

"He's a Time Lord. We're not born evil. We're made evil."

"I don't care how he became how he is. It's irrelevant."

"On the contrary. If someone can be made evil, then that evil can be unmade. Think of it as teaching a small child. So far we're at the finger painting stage, but one day, he'll create a masterpiece." Martha decided to humour the Doctor.

"Alright. But he's not at the finger painting stage quite yet. He's still staring at the blank piece of paper wondering what on earth you expect from him."

"I knew you'd understand." And he hugged her.

"I'm still here, you know, thanks to this cursed bond," the Master called. "And I just thought you ought to know: this isn't New Earth."  
The Doctor pushed Martha aside and rushed outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Like Moths To Flame**

The trio stood outside of the TARDIS, gazing at their surroundings. The Doctor licked his finger and stuck it in the air.

"We're on…" he paused, thinking.

"Earth," chipped in the Master.

"Shh, or I'll leave you in the TARDIS." It was friendly banter, thought Martha. As if they were… friends. She would never have believed it of the Doctor, her Doctor, who fought evil and injustice so forcefully. So this is what loneliness could do to you. Part of her regretted agreeing to this trip. Right now, all she wanted was to be home, away from the Master, who had tortured her family. If only Lucy Saxon had had better aim.

They were on the edge of a forest. Behind them, the trees became dense and dark. The undergrowth was thick and the air smelt dank.

"Not that way, then," said the Doctor. In front of them the trees thinned out to nothing within a few hundred metres, and beyond that, lit up by the crisp winter sunshine, was a sparkling lake. A huge castle rose up dramatically beyond it, imprinted majestically on the horizon. "That way," the Doctor said, and bounced off, the Master never more than a metre away. Martha followed, unsure of herself. She could deal with this? One trip? Of course she could...

/You like beauty, don't you, Doctor?/ A questioning glance passed between them.

/Of course. Who doesn't?/

/I don't/ The Master's laughter filled the Doctor's head. He turned to face his – friend? Enemy? Brother? Or something else altogether? – Master, but saw only a small smile playing around his lips. The Master smiled wider, and the terrible sound exploded into the Doctor's head, echoing with the Master's laughter, accompanied by images of death and destruction. The Doctor, in a moment of weakness, lifted his hands to his ears to block out the sounds of horror; the screams of every broken person, the deaths of every one resting on the Doctor's conscience. The Master pushed harder, filling his enemy's head with the very thing he couldn't bear: suffering. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

/A door once open can be passed through both ways, Master/ The drums receded and for a moment the Master could relax. And then his head was filled to bursting with static. The white noise when you tuned the radio half way between stations. The static on a television set with a broken aerial. This terrible, terrible... emptiness.

And then it was gone.

/There you go, Master. You're not the only one/

"Huh," muttered the Master out loud, and they continued the trek through the woods.

Martha eventually caught up with what she had taken to calling 'the happy couple'. Sarcastically, of course. And only in her head.

"This looks interesting..." the Doctor was saying. He was tilting his head, gazing at the castle from different angles. Martha mimicked him, confused. They looked like strange, nodding puppets, tipping their heads from side to side, watching the castle flicker between majestic glory and unstable ruins.

"What the hell..."

/You never can resist a mystery, Doctor/

/Talk out loud, Master/

/So _she_ can hear me? Nah, I don't think so/

"Doctor..."

/What's your problem, Master? Just act civilised/

/Civilised? Me? I'm very civilised/

/Yeah, because taking over Earth and torturing me is civilised/

/In a way/

"Doctor, please take me home. I don't like this." The Doctor forced the Master's voice from his mind.

"Why? This is exciting!" Martha glared at him.

"I wanted a shopping trip. Not a flickering castle and probably something awful going on. You're drawn to trouble like a moth is to a flame."

"What makes you think something awful will happen?"

/Oh, come on Doctor. Even you're not _that _stupid/

"We're on Earth! On Earth, castles are castles. They don't change!"

"Fine," the Doctor said, losing the sparkle from his eyes. "We'll go back to the TARDIS" – he paused – "After we've checked this place out! Come on!" The Master stuck his tongue out at Martha and pranced off after the Doctor. He was unable not to.

Martha felt like a third wheel. The Doctor and the Master. And Martha Jones. She should never have come.

"Doctor!" she yelled, and he stopped and turned. I'm going back to the TARDIS." He gave a thumbs up, turned away from her and carried on making his way round the lake to the front of the castle, Master in tow. So much for that.

Feeling rather dejected, more than a little betrayed and extremely jealous, Martha attempted to forget about the Doctor and Master's new found 'relationship'. She would hang out in the TARDIS (it had more than enough stuff to keep her entertained) and wait for the Doctor to return and take her home.

"Hey!" She'd walked right into someone. The voice was deep, with a heavy Scandinavian accent. Sexy, even. She snapped out of her thoughts and found herself face to face with a tall, dark haired man, good looking in the 'just got out of prison' sort of way.

"I'm sorry, I was just..."

"My name is Viktor Krum" – he held out his hand – "Are you a part of the Tournament too?" Martha, more out of surprise than politeness, took the stranger's hand. He had a firm, steady grip, and shook her hand once before letting go. "So?" he asked.

"What tournament?" He just stared at her. She felt a bit flustered. She just wanted to get back to the TARDIS, but she seemed captivated by this man's eyes. Without taking hers off them, she said, to break the silence: "Martha Jones, pleased to meet you. I've only just arrived and have no idea what's going on, so do excuse my lack of knowledge." She was rambling now, and begged him with her eyes to make her stop.

"How can you not know about the Triwizard Tournament?" She opened her mouth to explain, but he was too quick. "Never mind. I like you. Let's take a walk, I will explain."

Martha liked the way things were going. Viktor was attractive, friendly (after the initial shock of her bumping into him had worn off) and definitely better company than the Doctor and Master. However, he did seem to talk rather a lot of nonsense.

"So, the Triwizard Tournament is for young wizards – and witches – to prove themselves. Of course, there is money as a prize, but I have money already. I just want the glory." Martha decided not to ask about witches and wizards; she didn't want to seem too stupid. And she liked this guy.

"So what do you do? Are you like some rich heir or something?" she tried, nonchalant. She would love it if he wasn't, though. She didn't like rich kids. Krum looked shocked.

"Of course not! You know not what I do?"  
"I'm sorry, I honestly don't." She blushed slightly. So much for not sounding stupid. He gazed at her, incredulous.

"I am seeker for the Bulgarian quidditch team!" She guessed that that was supposed to be impressive, working from both his body language and tone of voice, so she responded accordingly.

"That's amazing! I can't believe I didn't know that!" She must have guessed right, because Viktor puffed his chest out proudly. "You won any matches lately?" It was a sport, wasn't it?

"Well, my team did get into the world cup finals..." he looked glum now.

"I take it you didn't win?"  
"No. I caught the snitch but Ireland already were too many points in the lead.

"Mhm..." The universal word of agreement, not that she had a clue what he was on about.

"But enough of me," he said, which obviously took some effort. He seemed to enjoy talking about himself. "Tell me about yourself."

"Well, I'm Martha, as you know, and I used to work in a hospital-"  
"St. Mungoe's? That's the best one, I've heard."

"Um, no, a different one." She wasn't sure which country she was in; Krum seemed to be speaking English, but for all she knew, the TARDIS could be translating. She'd have to ask the Doctor. "Very far from here," she settled with. "I'm a long way from home." She had got used to saying that now.

"Don't worry, I look after you." This statement, so frank, made her smile. She definitely needed someone to look after her right now, and she felt relieved to have admitted it, even if only to herself. "You were a healer?" Viktor asked. This meant doctor, right? Or nurse?  
"Yeah, in a way." She didn't want to admit that she was unsure as to what he meant.

"Ah..." He nodded, as if he was now in on some joke. There was silence for a moment, but it felt relaxed and comfortable, nowhere near awkward. As they had been talking, they had been walking deeper into the forest. Now it was almost completely dark, the light cut out by the thick branches overhead.

"You have a boyfriend?" Krum asked after a while.

"Not at the moment. Do you? Have a girlfriend, I mean?"

"No," he said, and he kissed her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Before Utopia

/So where did _she _go?/

/Back to the TARDIS. I don't think she appreciates your company/

/But I'm charming/

/…/ Both the Doctor and the Master were enjoying these little mind conversations, even though neither were about to admit it.

/Where are we going, Doctor?/ The Doctor couldn't explain the warm fuzzy feeling he got when the Master used the word 'we', but he sure as hell hoped that the Master hadn't realised he had felt it. He had quite good control over the doors in and out of his mind, but the Master seemed adept at breaking them down. But if the Master did notice, he didn't let on. The Doctor relaxed.

/Inside that castle/

They had been heading towards the castle, and were on the near side of the lake when they stopped. There was a loud, sucking noise behind them, coming from the lake. They turned slowly, in synchronisation, unsure of what to expect. What they did see was beyond anything they could have imagined.

/It's a ship/

/Shhh, Master/

/They can't hear me, you tool. I'm in your head/ The Doctor rolled his eyes.

/No, I'm trying to think/

/…/ But he was silent anyway, and the Doctor was amazed at how… human (if human was the right word)… the Master seemed. As if he'd lost that element of pure evil inside of him. As if he'd finally grown up. Perhaps Lucy's treachery had done that, or perhaps even just spending so long as Professor Yana. Or perhaps even… but the Doctor wasn't going to guess anymore; he'd never get it right, the Master was so complex a being.

The ship had fully emerged from the turbulent waters, and its crew were beginning to disembark. A line of heavy set, dark haired adolescents filed off the gang plank, followed by a small man dressed in what looked liked an entire family of dead rabbits, walking with a silver tipped staff. The Doctor shuddered; he hated it when people wore furs.

"Karkaroff…" the Master murmured under his breath. The Doctor pricked up his ears.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." He acted all nonchalant, wasn't me and all that, but the Doctor had heard anyway.

"You know who he is."

"I know a lot of people, Doctor." They were speaking out loud now; the Doctor suddenly felt uncomfortable with the notion of the Master being privy to his thoughts. He stared at the Master's face, his permanently smug face, and slowly and carefully locked and bolted his mind.

"Have you been here before, Master?"

"No." But he averted his eyes, and the Doctor knew right away that he was lying.

"Tell the truth!" he yelled, losing every ounce of self-control. The Master seemed to have that effect on him.

"Oh, Doctor, you never could control yourself, could you? They'll have heard us now."

The line of boys continued towards the castle, walking right past the Doctor and Master as if they hadn't seen them. Only Karkaroff stopped, and when he did it was from shock.

"Saxon," he said trembling. "So you got here?"

/See/ hissed the Doctor in the Master's head. /He knows you, you know him. Liar/

"Karkaroff," replied the Master coldly.

/Liar! Dirty liar! I trusted you!/

/Doctor, you should know that you can never trust a time lord/ This stopped the Doctor dead.

"Everything is ready, Lord Saxon. Two more tasks, and the boy will be-"

"You have rather a large mouth, Karkaroff. Don't give away all our plans, now." He smiled coldly, and Karkaroff visibly flinched.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, staring at his feet embarrassed, his white face flushing a pale pink. "I thought he" – he jerked his head towards the Doctor – "was in on it."

"I'll forget it, for now. No harm was done." He waved his arm regally, living up to his new title of Lord. "I'll summon you when you're next needed." To the Doctor's surprise, Karkaroff bowed. Then he scurried off to join the rest of the people form the ship. The Doctor rounded on the Master.

"What have you done?"

/…/

"Answer me! You're a Lord now? Weren't happy just being Master, Professor _and _Prime Minister?"

/I deemed it suitable for the scenario/

"But when could you have struck up a deal with Karkaroff?"  
/I'm a time lord/

"A time lord with no TARDIS!"

/That's what you think. Ever wondered what happened before Professor Yana?/

"You set this up before Utopia?"

/Of course/

"But…"

/And I reconfigured the TARDIS. Coming here wasn't just one of your many mistakes. It was one of my many successes/

"You couldn't have. It has isomorphic controls…"

/Oh, Doctor. Your mind is so limited/

"I should have left you in the TARDIS!"

/Of course you should have, Doctor, but it's too late now. You want to know what's happening, and the only way you'll find that out is by watching what I do/

"Oh, you never change, do you? You plan to destroy the universe, but that's not enough. You have to have a god-damned audience!"

/You know, Doctor, if you carry on like this, Harry will think you're mad. You're kind of talking to yourself/

"Harry?"

"Yes?" came a boy's voice from behind the Doctor, who spun round to find himself face to face with a skinny, dark haired boy with piercing green eyes and round glasses. He was wearing a long, black robe with a school crest emblazoned upon the breast. _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus._ The Doctor looked down and could see dirty white trainers poking out from underneath the folds of black fabric. The most startling feature, the only startling feature, about the boy, who looked to be in his early teens, was the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. The Doctor found his eyes drawn to it as if by a magnetic force, and he wondered how so young a man could have received such an impressive wound. He assumed that it had been a wound, although for all he knew it could have been from something else. The Doctor looked at the boy, at Harry, noticing the redness around his eyes. Harry had been crying.

"Harry Potter! What an honour it is to meet you!" crowed the Master, speaking out loud for the first time since Karkaroff had left. He held out a hand for Harry to shake, which he did after wiping away one last tear.

"Likewise," he said with a sniff, and either he had ignored the hint of sarcasm in the Master's voice, or he had simply not heard it.

/How do you know _his _name? He part of your dastardly plan?/ The Doctor hated, absolutely detested, being left out of the loop.

/All you need to know is that he's famous, so he'll be surprised that you don't know his name/

"I'm sorry," said the Doctor, purely to annoy and disobey the Master. "But I don't think I've heard of you before." Harry looked surprised, but pleased.

"Oh, in that case, I'm Harry, and I'm a student at this school. I'm competing in the Triwizard Tournament." He frowned. "You're not part of Rita Skeeter's lot, are you?"

"I can assure you I'm not. I'm not so sure about _him_."

"Rita Skeeter the journalist? Of course not. I'd never be involved in anything as tacky as journalism," said the Master.

/How do you know so much?/

/I'm better than you, Doctor. I've always been better than you!/

/But how? How can you know so much about this place, about these people?/

A raging internal battle was taking place while Harry watched, bemused.

"You can talk to each in your heads," he said softly. "Do you use sympathetic magic?"

"Um…" said the Doctor. " I don't use magic…"  
/Wrong thing to say/ whispered the Master's gleeful voice into the base of his skull.

"So you're a muggle? What are you doing here?" Harry looked panicked, as if he'd said far too much.

/Tell him we're time lords/

/You tell him! You're the one who seems to know everything!/ The Master rolled his eyes and clenched his mouth shut. /So childish/ Just a murmur from the Doctor, before he faced Harry again.

"Ok, Harry. I think it's time we introduced ourselves. I'm the Doctor and this is-"  
"Saxon, Harold Saxon," butted in the Master.

/I can't call myself the Master, I'll never blend in/

/_You_ want to blend in? But it's only switching Master for Lord, isn't it? You're all _Lord Saxon_ now/

/Like I said, it seemed appropriate. Anyway, it's got a nice ring to it. Maybe I'll have you start calling me Lord…/

/Master…/

/No, I like it when you say Master… We'll stick with that for now/ The Doctor ignored him, and focussed his attention on Harry, saying:

"And we're both time lords. Aliens, if you must. Friendly, of course, and highly intelligent, if I dos ay so myself. Well, I am. I'm not so sure about _him_. But yeah, that's why we don't use magic - hang on, why're you crying?" Because Harry had tears streaming down his face.

"I had a bond with someone. You… reminded me of him." Harry was drowning in tears now, and the Doctor out an arm awkwardly around his shoulders.

"Do you… want to talk to us?" he asked. "I mean, I've been around for a long time, 900 odd years to be precise. Well, precise enough, in the grand scale of things…" - he trailed off – "But anyway, I may be able to give you some advice," he finished lamely.

"Why not?" answered Harry, attempting to dry his still leaking eyes. "You're an alien; what harm can it do?"

Harry led the Doctor and Master into the castle, through the heavy wooden doors, through the entrance hall and along and up many corridors and flights of stairs. The pictures on the walls were moving, but the Doctor ignored the illogic of magic, on earth, in the hands of humans. The Master had decided to be generous, and share some information.

/They're wizards, wizards and witches. They're very well hidden from 'muggle' or non-magical people. The Triwizard Tournament is a contest between the three main schools, this year it's being hosted here, at Hogwarts, Britain. That's all you really need to know/ The Master smirked at the Doctor's bewildered expression.

/How do you know so much?/

/Ho do you think?/

/You've been here before/

/Obviously/

/…/

They stopped outside of a large portrait of an even larger woman. Harry smiled through his tears.

"This is the fat lady." Then he whispered something to her, a password that the others weren't allowed to hear.

The portrait swung open revealing a hole in the wall.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – The Wrong Professor.**

A lanky ginger boy sat in an armchair facing the glowing fire. He turned when he heard the portrait open. Harry blushed when he saw him.

/Ron…/

The Doctor looked at Harry's face, at the way he was gazing at Ron and realized that Harry was using his mind to communicate with this boy. He didn't want to intrude, so he waited, watching the silent conversation, not even allowing himself to guess at what was being said. But sometimes, he couldn't help but catch snippets, just wisps of thoughts. He had an open, inquisitive mind, but he tried his best not to intrude.

/LEAVE ME BE!/ he heard, and realized the Master must have heard too, because he looked startled, and not much could startle Harold Saxon. Then, a few moments later:

/I honestly didn't do it, Ron. I didn't choose to be a part of this tournament/

"Um… excuse me," he said out loud. "But I think due to psychic connections and the like, I'm overhearing some of your conversation." Harry blushed. He looked rather cute when he blushed, the Doctor noted.

/Oi!/ burst the Master's voice into his head and the Doctor smirked.

/Don't worry, Master, he's really not my type. A bit young and delicate looking/

"I heard that," said the red head, Ron. "And believe me, my Harry's far from delicate." Harry's face broke into a bright grin, as did Ron's, and they embraced. The Master shoved his fingers down his own throat, miming throwing up, but the Doctor just wacked him playfully over the head.

Sitting around the fireplace late that evening, after waiting for all of the other Gryffindors to get bored of the novelty of having to aliens staying in _their _dorm, and head off to bed, the four of them decided to speak out loud to each other.

"No private conversations, and everybody will be happy," said the Doctor, ignoring the Master's attempts to penetrate his mind. He had sunk into the comfiest armchair in the room, and felt very smug as he watched the Master attempt to perch on the arm.

/Bastard/ The Master managed to force into his head, and he smirked. Harry and Ron were sat squashed together on the same armchair, having somehow made friends.

"So what was wrong before, if you don't mind me asking?" the Doctor asked.

"He entered the Triwizard Tournament."

"Did not!"

"Fine, I thought that he had. Seems that someone else must have entered him." Harry looked at Ron.

"Why would I want to enter? Don't you think that enough trouble finds me without me going looking for it?"

"Alright, I believe you! I'm sorry, ok. And the way you beat that dragon was amazing, it really was." Harry blushed.

"It was nothing, really. Moody helped me. He told me to use something I was already good at, so I used my broom." Harry and Ron began discussing the positives and negatives of using a wooden broomstick whilst battling a fire breathing dragon, and the Master sat biting at his fingernails.

/What's wrong, Master?/

/Who said there was anything wrong?/ he shot back, annoyed.

/You're biting your nails. You're normally obsessive about your appearance/

/Wow, you don't miss anything, do you?/ he replied dryly.

/So go on then, do tell/

/I thought you said no private conversations?/

/Oh, forget what I said! Unless you want to tell me out loud?/ The Master glared at him.

/Moody/ he said softly. /Alastor Moody shouldn't be here. That wasn't part of the plan/

/Should I be pleased that your plan is failing?/

/No. No. Moody being here. Someone who is pretending to be Moody. It's not good, for anyone/

/?/

/I'm sorry, Doctor, but you're going to have to come with me/ The Doctor was surprised to feel a jolt, a tug at the bond as the Master hopped off the arm of the chair. He had thought that it was him in charge, but now realized that the Master had just as much control over him as he did over the Master. The Master smirked at the Doctor's expression.

/Yes, Doctor, I knew I had control since the beginning. You were doing what I wanted though, so I didn't see why I needed to correct your misconceptions/

/Bastard/ The Doctor stood up, realizing that he either followed the Master or fought him. He wasn't confident whether he could beat him in a fist fight, and he was extremely curious to what was going on, so he decided to follow him.

"If you'll excuse us, boys, we're just going to visit Professor Moody," said the Doctor, and Harry and Ron nodded.

"We should probably be off to bed now anyway," said Ron, stifling a yawn, and he took Harry by the hand and led him upstairs to the dorm.

The Doctor and Master left the common room.

/They're gay/ The Master kept glancing down at a piece of parchment in his hands, looking worried, and he was striding so quickly through the corridors that the Doctor could feel himself being tugged along by the bond.

/Does that mean anything?/ he shot back at the Master.

/No, simply that they are using a bond, a connection, similar to ours, and are in a relationship together/

/And your point is?/

/I was just hoping that it wasn't compulsory, that was all/

/Oh…/ The Doctor felt his stomach drop, as if he'd been rejected, but he didn't want to be with the Master. At least, he kept telling himself that he didn't want to be with the Master. /Are you not jealous of how close they are?/ he tried.

/Jealous? Don't make me laugh!/ The Doctor remembered the Master's laugh, forced into his head, and knew that he didn't _want _to make him laugh. /I don't need anyone, Doctor, except maybe a few spectators to watch as I destroy this universe. And I definitely don't need you!/ The Doctor felt the Master's presence leave his mind, and felt so empty and incomplete in the silence that he felt compelled to keep talking.

/What's that you're holding?/

/This? Something I stole from Potter/

/And when did you manage that?/

/When he took us up to his common room. I was amazed you didn't notice, Doctor, but I guess you are as blind and incompetent as I thought you were/ That stung, but the Doctor ignored it. Sticks and stones, sticks and stones.

/You didn't tell me what it is/

/The Marauder's Map. Created by Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. It's magical/ The Doctor peered over the Master's shoulder and saw that on the parchment was, indeed, a map of the castle. He wasn't as surprised as he should have been at the tiny moving images with names printed over them. He was already used to the moving paintings which lined the walls. In the Gryffindor dorms he spotted the names 'Harry Potter' and 'Ronald Weasely' almost overlapping. He smirked. On the corridor they were standing on were two names: 'Koschei' and 'Theta Sigma'.

/It's interesting, out of every name we've ever gone by, the map chose those two/ mused the Doctor.

/I hate those names/ The Doctor carried on gazing at the map. He let his eyes wander down the corridor they were on, wondering where the Master was going, where he was taking him. The Master had conveniently covered the end of the corridor with his hand.

/If it's magical, how did you get it working?/ The Doctor was suddenly suspicious, and he was right to be.

/Are you missing anything, Doctor?/

/You thieving bastard! You've got my sonic!/

/An eye for an eye, Doctor, or at least a screwdriver for a screwdriver. I do believe you have my laser?/

/Ngh!/ Pure frustration emanated from the Doctor's mind. The Master stopped, after checking the map carefully, at a door. /Who's in that room?/ The Master ignored him. /Which room is it?/ Again, he ignored him. The Doctor wrenched the parchment from the Master's hand and furiously searched for the corridor they were in. He spotted the names. 'Theta Sigma', 'Koschei', and then, inside the defense against the dark arts teacher's study, 'Davros'.

/This is what you've been hiding?/

/No. This is all wrong. No, no, no!/

/You're in league with Davros? That's low, even for _you_!/

/I'm not. He's not supposed to be here. I should never have trusted Karkaroff with such an important job/

/And what would that have been?/ But the Master ignored him. _Damn, this is happening much too often,_ thought the Doctor. _He's my prisoner, I should be in charge._

The Master folded the map into his pocket and slowly pushed the office door open, not bothering to knock. The Doctor waited with bated breath as more and more of the room came into view. He was expecting at any moment to see the twisted old man in his wheelchair, life support humming, his ugly, blind face and blue eye staring at his enemy. Because Davros was the Doctor's greatest enemy, aside from the Master. He had created the Daleks, who had fought against the time lords in the time war, and because of this, indirectly, he had been the reason for the Doctor destroying his own people. Davros was the reason the Doctor felt such a strong attachment to the Master, in a weird, twisted way.

/Unless you're just in love with me…/ whispered the Master into the Doctor's mind, but his thought was swatted away like a buzzing fly.

The door finished opening, but the only soul in the room was an upright figure in a black cloak gazing out of the window, facing away from the door. His cloak was an inch too short, and a wooden leg was visible beneath it.

"Things just got a hell of a lot more confusing," muttered the Master.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Sink Plungers**

"Mad-Eye?" The Master entered the room tentatively, the Doctor close behind him. The man at the window turned to face them, revealing his 'identity'. The man's electric blue eyeball spun round to see them, but it wasn't Davros' eye. Neither was it positioned in the middle of his forehead, but in place of where his actual eye should have been. The other eye seemed to be functioning perfectly. Even without the magical eye, though, his face would still have been captivating in a horrible sort of way. It was pitted and scarred in grotesque ways, and a chunk of his nose seemed to be missing. He didn't seem surprised to see them, and the Doctor wondered whether_ he _had a copy of the 'Marauder's Map' as well.

"Saw you coming," the man, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, said in a gruff voice, gesturing at a large mirror showing hundreds of shadowy figures. He laughed. "I only need to be afraid when see the whites of their eyes." The Doctor looked closer, and saw an image of both him and the Master, both showing whites. Now, that proved something, he just wasn't sure what yet.

They stood there a bit longer, watching the man potter about the study moving things from desk to shelf to chair and back to desk again.

/He's a bad actor/

/Yeah well so would you be if you weren't used to being human./

/Sticking up for Davros?/

/No/

/Or just annoyed that I'm more observant than you thought I was?/

"You're still here," pointed out Moody. "Did you have something to say?" The Doctor glanced at the Master who glared back at him and shook his head.

"Not really," said the Doctor, and the pair took their leave.

They stood outside the Gryffindor common room, unable to enter without a password, but with nowhere else to go.

/But it's not really Davros' thing, is it?/

/I wouldn't know what you mean. I don't have quite the same history as you/

/So, aside from the Time War, you've never ran into the... oh crap/

/What?/ Now the Master was curious.

/Daleks. If Davros is here, where are the Daleks?/ There was a stunned silence, both in the corridor outside the portrait and within the two men's heads.

/You think there could be daleks here?/ For once, the Master sounded uncertain.

/That, Master, is one thing I'm certain of. I just don't know where they're hiding/

/Yet/

When Harry and Ron arrived back at Gryffindor tower after breakfast, they found both Time Lords sitting cross legged outside the common room, poring over what looked remarkably like...

"The Marauder's Map!" exclaimed Harry.

"Um, yeah, about that..." said the Doctor.

"Does this map ever lie?" asked the Master.

"How did you get it working?" Harry sounded curious.

"Never mind that, how did they get it?" blustered Ron.

"_He_," the Doctor said, jerking his head at the Master, who smiled smugly, "stole it. And he got it working using the sonic screwdriver he stole off _me_. Which, by the way, I want back." The last comment was directed at the Master.

"Does the map ever lie?" the Master repeated, always the stubborn one.

"No," said Harry.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course he's sure!" Ron was getting angry. "It's his map!" Harry laid a hand on his shoulder, and Ron stopped.

"My father was one of the people who made it," Harry said evenly.

"Well, you can congratulate him when you next see him," said the Master. "It's very useful."

"He's dead."

"I'm sorry," said the Master, not sounding sorry at all. Ron glared at him. The Master ignored the evil look and turned to the Doctor. "So that means they're not at Hogwarts yet?"

"I'm guessing so. We've pretty much combed the map and I think we would have spotted an army of daleks."

"Could they be disguised as something else? Like Davros was?"

"We saw Davros on the map."

"Daleks might not show up."

"Maybe not, but that's a risk we'll have to take."

"So they're hiding outside Hogwarts?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but what on earth are you talking about?" asked Ron. Both time lords jumped, surprised. They'd been so immersed in the problem of the daleks that they had completely forgotten about the boy wizards.

"Nothing of great importance," the Master lied.

"But if you see any large metal robots pointing a sink plunger or a whisk at you, please let us know," added the Doctor.

"Are you crazy?" Ron asked.

"Yes, but where's the fun in being normal?"

Harry and Ron let the time lords into the Gryffindor common room. There were only a few other people in it.

"Hey Neville, hey Hermione," said Harry. "These are the people I told you about." Neville and Hermione came over to say hello, both slightly wary of the aliens.

"Are you sure it's safe to have them in Gryffindor?" she hissed. "And shouldn't you tell Dumbledore that they're here?"

"They don't know the password," said Ron. "We made sure of that."

"And knowing Dumbledore, he'll already know they're here," added Harry. "Relax, Hermione!" Hermione frowned at him, flicked her bushy brown hair over her shoulder and then decided she would, in fact, welcome the aliens.

"Are you here for the Triwizard Tournament?" she asked, suddenly all friendly. If Harry trusted them they must be ok, right?

"No," said the Master curtly. He wasn't in the mood to make new 'friends'.

"We just happened to be here at the same time," added the Doctor quickly.

"Oh." Hermione seemed stumped for something to say. The Master had that effect on people.

"Are you going to the Yule ball?" Neville asked. He seemed quite shy and quiet, but the Doctor could tell that there was someone amazing hidden under that shy persona, and he had only known the boy for less than five minutes. He liked to think of it as one of his talents; being able to see the hidden side of everybody, the good things about them that no one else acknowledged. It was what the Master called 'seeing the good in everyone' with a sneer on his face and blatant disapproval in his voice. He just didn't understand.

/Oh, I understand alright, I just choose to disapprove/ The Doctor jumped at the Master's voice, but ignored his comment. The Master understood nothing of anything important, nothing of love, or compassion, or of... of anything. /They're hardly the most important of things, Doctor/ He was such a hard, cold hearted man. He was a Time Lord through and through. /Just remember, Doctor. You're a time lord too/

/Get out of my head, Master/ he thought quietly, although he had to fight to control his temper. He didn't want Harry or Ron to hear.

/Ooh, someone's touchy/ But the Master withdrew his presence anyway.

"So are you?" asked Ron, and the Doctor awoke from his thoughts.

I don't know. I don't know what it is," he admitted.

"It's only _the _event of the year!" said Hermione. "_And_ the Weird Sisters are doing the music. It's going to be _great_!" The Master wondered why the girl kept speaking in italics, but he didn't comment. He wasn't in the mood. He stood silently behind the Doctor, letting him do the talking.

"So it's a ball?" he heard the Doctor say. "And there's a band playing who you really like? And it's part of the celebrations for this tournament thing?"

"Yeah, and you have to take someone to dance with," added Hermione.

"Oh..."

"Don't worry," said Neville, at this point looking slightly dejected. "I haven't got anyone either."  
"Only because _she's _going with my sister!" Ron glared at Hermione who blushed but then glared back just as, if not more, fiercely. Harry sighed.

"I'm sorry about this," he said softly to the Doctor. "They keep arguing about this."  
"I can date whoever I want to date, Ronald."

"But my sister...!"

"Anyone I want to," Hermione repeated. "And that includes your sister."

"But she's a girl."

"You're with Harry! For goodness sake, Ron, you're such a hypocrite!" It was at that moment that the petite red haired girl, who had slipped into the room during the heated argument between her brother and her girlfriend, announced her arrival. She coughed, and her brother spun round.

"Ginny!"

"Keep your grubby nose out of my love life, Ronald," she said, slipping an arm around Hermione's waist.

"I wonder what the food will be like at the ball," said Harry, attempting to change the subject and end the argument. Hermione flared up again.

"Is food all you ever think about?" she exclaimed, pulling away from Ginny so that she could face Harry properly. "What about all of the poor house elves who have to slave down in the kitchens so that you can stuff your face?"

"Not this again," muttered Ron, and Hermione rounded on him again.

"It's slave labour! How would you like it if-"  
"But they _do _like it, Hermione. They _want_ to serve us." Harry ignored this new argument, deciding to keep out of it, even though Neville and Ginny had been sucked in, all of them against Hermione.

"You'll need dress robes for the ball," he said quietly. "You can go to Hogsmeade, the wizarding village, to get some. I know that you still have my map, so if you go to the statue of the one eyed witch on the third floor, go past that and then follow the passage, you'll get there." He smiled. "Don't mind them, they're not normally this bad. I think they're just stressed about the ball and the tournament. I'll see you around, then?"

"Yeah. Thanks for lending me the map," said the Doctor. "I'll make sure we get it back to you." Harry gave a little wave, and the Doctor, followed by the Master, left the common room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – An Unlikely Shopaholic**

They found the statue easily. They hadn't realised that they needed magic to get past it.

/What should we do?/ asked the Doctor. /Go back to the kids?/ The Master laughed softly.

/You make it sound like they're our kids/ The Doctor was silent. He hated the part of himself who wanted a family, and he hated with even more passion the part which wanted the Master to be a part of it. /Family?/ asked the Master. /You _are_ getting soft/ Then he paused. /Are you going to come up with a solution then? Or am I waiting for nothing?/

/Use the sonic, idiot/

/Don't call me an idiot/

/Well you have the damn thing/

/Will it work?/

/It worked on the map. And you never know until you try/ The Master pulled the Doctor's screwdriver from his pocket, returning the map as he did so, and pointed it at the statue. There was an almost imperceptible click followed by a loud whir, and the statue slid gratingly out of the way, revealing a long tunnel. /Now give me back the screwdriver/

/Say please/

/It's mine, dammit!/

/Say please/ The Doctor made a lunge for the screwdriver which the Master was holding out to him, mocking him. /Oh no you don't/ He darted off down the tunnel, the Doctor in hot pursuit.

The Doctor could feel the bond tugging at him as he fell further and further behind the Master. Any second now he was going to fall over and end up being dragged along the cold stone floor.

/Stop!/ he called out. All he got in return was silence.

"Stop!" he yelled out loud, and the sound reverberated in a creepy sounding echo. The pull stopped, and he caught up with the Master.

/What's wrong?/ mocked the Master. /Am I too fast for you?/

/Bastard/ panted the Doctor, but he didn't ask for the sonic. He was fast, with his long, skinny legs, but it seemed that the Master was faster.

/You learnt your lesson yet? Good. Now let's go clothes shopping!/ The Master clapped his hands with excitement and walked off down the tunnel, holding the sonic out in front of him like a torch.

/I'd never have thought of you as a shopper?/

/Really? You didn't think it was Lucy who chose these shirts, did you?/ The Master sounded surprised.

/Well I don't know. So you shop a lot, then?/

/Only at the best places. You look like a thrift store shopper to me/

/There's nothing wrong with Oxfam!/ said the Doctor, indignantly.

/Oxfam/ said the Master with disdain. /You need help/

/No one's ever taken me shopping before.../

/Oh, you poor, deprived child/ The Doctor could hear the sarcasm.

/Why have you stopped?/

/Dead end/ said the Master.

/Go up/

/What?/

/Up. Trapdoor/ The Master shone the screwdriver above his head.

/How did you know?/ he asked suspiciously.

/I didn't. I'm just clever like that. It's like a sixth sense/ The Master unbolted the trapdoor and heaved it open. Light shone down into the tunnel.

/Give me a leg up/

/Of course/ The Doctor lifted the Master up by his ankles and half lifted him, half threw him through the hole in the ceiling. This surprised the Master, who let out a startled squawk. /Shhh.../ cautioned the Doctor, doubled up with silent laughter.

/It's your fault/ snapped the Master, holding out his hand to help the Doctor up. The Doctor knew that he could have climbed up by himself, but he took the offered hand anyway. He liked the contact.

They looked around, amazed. They were in a large cellar filled with boxes and crates of all different sizes.

/Quick, get down!/ The master jerked the Doctor by the arm and they both ducked behind a large stack of boxes. A man was walking down the stone steps in the corner, mumbling to himself.

"Bertie Bott's, Bertie Bott's, we're always out of those damn beans."

/Beans?/ inquired the Master.

/They must be some sort of sweet. Harry said the tunnel came out into Honeydukes/

/I knew that actually/

/Sure you did/

The man eventually found the box he had been looking for and, with much grumbling and mumbling, carried it up the steps. The time lords let out the breaths they hadn't realised they'd been holding.

/Come on/ said the Doctor, and they made their way towards the steps that the man had just ascended.

/Slowly/

/Quietly/ Thump.

/Shh! Your feet are so loud!/

/_My _feet? You're the one who sounds like an elephant, Doctor/

/Huh/ They made it to the top without alerting anyone though, and came out behind the counter.

/Crap/

/Just be quick/ The Doctor gripped the Master's wrist and darted under the counter and behind one of the displays, dragging the Master behind him. The Master stood up straight, dusting down his suit.

/Next time can we maybe make our escape in a less vulgar manner?/

/And where's the fun in that?/

/I take it you've done this before?/

/What? Running and hiding? Or specifically hiding from grumpy sweetshop owners?/

/Don't try to be funny; it really doesn't suit you/

/Well, pardon me. You wanna get some sweets?/

/We haven't got any money/

/Am I dreaming? The Master worrying about money?/

/I wouldn't have taken you for a thief/

/Psychic paper/ He patted his pocket. /My treat/ The Master's face lit up with glee.

/What are you waiting for, then?/

The shop was near to empty, the only other customer being a tall, old wizard in deep purple robes. He had a long, white beard and appeared to be buying sherbet lemons.

/I didn't know they sold ordinary sweets here/ mused the Doctor.

/Never mind that, come on!/ The Master was acting like a child, and in the Doctor's opinion it rather suited him. Made him look... endearing. The Doctor followed him round the multicoloured sweet shop as he filled his arms with everything he could get his hands on. /So _this _is what the man was talking about/ He picked up a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. /Ooh look, these ones have collector's cards in them.../ He grabbed a couple of boxes of chocolate frogs and then moved onto Sugar Quills.

/I think that might be enough/ said the Doctor when the Master had sweets piled so high that he couldn't see over the top.

/Mmm...?/ The Master was busy poring over lollies 'made with real blood!' that were supposedly designed to 'bring out the vampire in you'.

/I said that's enough/ But the Doctor was laughing. /You really are like a child/

/There's nothing wrong with being childish every now and again/ The Doctor couldn't really disagree with that.

The Master piled the sweets onto the counter in front of the bemused old wizard, who did a quick count.

"That'll be..."

"Stick it all onto that," said the Doctor, king of cool, flashing the psychic paper.

"The Inter-Galactic Bank of Wizards... You're from out of town, then?"

"Very much so," said the Doctor, smiling. The psychic paper always surprised him.

"Meself, I've never left this village, but each to their own I guess. I need a bag!" The last bit was yelled behind him, and a red faced woman hurried out from the back of the shop clutching a carrier bag. She pointed her wand at it and muttered a quick spell. Then she pointed her wand at the pile of sweets on the counter and they flew into the bag. The bag didn't even bulge.

"Here you go," she said, handing the bag to the Master, whose eyes lit up. As they left the shop, they heard the man turn to his wife.

"They're from _out of town_," he said.

"So's a lot of people."

"No, but they're from _really _out of town."

/Dress robes/

/Mmm... Ooh look/ The Master had opened his first chocolate frog. /Cliodne... Some witch/

/Come on!/

/Do you want the frog? I'm not particularly hungry/

/Not hungry? But you haven't eaten anything!/

/Oh well, all the more for you. Ooh... Albus Dumbledore... Here, you can have this one as well/ He handed the Doctor another frog and ripped open the next packet. /Merlin/

/I don't want all this chocolate. Put them in the bag for later/

/Yes, _mum_/

They did find a robe shop eventually. It was a small shop, quite out of the way, and hidden on a side alley. The Master had amassed quite a collection of cards, several duplicated, and was down to his last frog.

/We need more frogs/

/You haven't eaten any!/ replied the Doctor, exasperated.

/Huh. I'm not hungry/

/You're never hungry. Come on/ The Doctor pushed the Master through the shop door. A bell rang as the door shut, and a scrawny witch appeared.

"Oh, bother, more customers," she said, brushing her robes down.

"I beg your pardon?" said the Doctor. "We've come for dress robes."

"Both of you? And you'll want fitting as well." She eyed the time lords and tutted loudly. "Well, Madame Needle's the one to do it."

"Is that you?"

"Of course! You don't think I could afford more staff, do you? Stand over here, on here. You too. You must be mad..."

/I don't like it here/ said the Master, frowning.

/I thought you liked shopping?/

/Not _this _kind of shopping/

"What colour are you wanting?"  
"Blue," said the Doctor.

/Blue? You wear brown/

/Do I not have a blue suit?/

/No/

/But I'm sure I wore it when... No. Never mind/

"Black," said the Master. "With red trim."  
"You're not half fussy," snapped the woman.

/Black and red?/

/Do I not wear...? No. What am I thinking?/

/Well, you're picturing a black hoody and a red shirt. Not your usual style at all/

/Why on Gallifrey would I wear something like that? I'd look like a bloody scene kid.../

Their robes fitted and the psychic paper shown ("Well that _seems_ to be in order. Never heard of _that_ bank though.") they hurried back into Honeydukes. Luckily, the man and his wife seemed to be having a tea break, or perhaps it was lunchtime, and they got down into the cellar with no difficulty at all. They walked back through the tunnel and opened the statue at the other end using the sonic.

/I want that back now/

/I guess you _did_ get me chocolate.../

/Yes I did. Give it back/

/No!/ The Master laughed. /Well, that was fun. Can we try our robes on properly now?/

/Ngh! You are infuriating!/

/I do my best/


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – Muddled Names and Lost Appetites**

"Can you _please _let us in?" begged the Doctor.

"No. No password, no entry." The Fat Lady smirked at them. "You'll have to wait there."

/Let me handle this/ the Master told the Doctor. The he turned to the Fat Lady.

"Let us in NOW!"

"That kind of attitude is not going to get you anywhere," said the Fat Lady in a disapproving tone. "Someone needs to learn some manners."

/Ha!/ said the Doctor. /This is brilliant. Someone's actually standing up to you and your bullying/

/Oh, do be quiet/ said the Master, flopping down onto the floor in disgust, unused to not getting his own way. The Doctor sat down beside him.

/Are you ok?/

/Why would you care?/ The Doctor rolled his eyes.

/Are you _that _stupid? Can you seriously not see what's right in front of your face?/ The Master stood up.

/Potter and his boyfriend are here/

/Can't you just listen to me? For once?/

/No/

"Are you going to get ready for the ball?" asked Harry excitedly, at the exact same time as Ron said:

"Did you get dress robes?" They both laughed.

"Oh, and can I have my map back?" Harry asked.

"No," said the Master. Hermione came up behind him.

"Oh, you are silly," she said, with an air of superiority about her. She pointed her wand at the Master. "Accio Marauder's Map." The map shot out of the Master's pocket, who blinked in surprise, and flew into Hermione's waiting hand. "Here you go, Harry. I'm going to get ready." She flounced off.

"Well that solved that problem," said Harry.

"Indeed it did," said the Doctor, glaring at the Master.

"We're going to get ready now," said Ron. "In the dorm. But there are toilets down the corridor. We'll meet you outside of them, ok?"

"Yeah, sure," said the Doctor, and he left the common room, the Master, of course, at his heels.

/Here are your robes/ The Doctor handed the Master the package which was tied with string. He attempted to untie it, but his fingers kept fumbling over the knot. Then he tried to bite through it, but his teeth weren't very sharp and the string was particularly thick, so he failed at that as well.

/You got any scissors?/

/No. Do I look like I would have any scissors?/ It was a rhetorical question, but the Master answered it anyway.

/You just seem like the sort of person who would carry a handbag/

/Manbag/ said the Doctor. The Master smirked.

/See?/

/I don't carry a handbag! Are you questioning my masculinity?/

/Yes, indeed I am/

/Ngh!/

/You say that a lot.../

/That's because you're so bloody infuriating/ The Doctor suddenly had an idea. He pulled the Master's laser screwdriver from his pocket and used that to cut through the string.

/Give me my screwdriver back!/

/You not going to say thank you for untying your dress robes?/ The Doctor cut through his own string with the laser and then slipped it back into his pocket.

/Bastard/

The Master had to admit that the Doctor did look good in the blue dress robes.

/You don't look half bad yourself/ said the Doctor, eyeing the Master's black and red attire appreciatively. The Master's pale face flushed pink with blush.

/Let's go/ he said, but the Doctor could see the pleased smile playing on his lips. They left the bathroom to find Harry and Ron stood waiting outside. Harry was wearing very posh looking emerald green robes which, the Doctor noticed, matched his eyes. Ron, on the other hand, was wearing what looked like a very frill, pink dress. The Master opened his mouth opened his mouth to comment, but Ron's glare made him think twice.

"Don't say anything," Ron growled.

/Wasn't going to anyway/ said the Master to the Doctor when he saw him smirking.

"Let's go," said Harry, taking the still angry looking Ron's hand and leading the way. The Time Lords followed.

/Do you think we should go get Donna?/

/Who the hell is Donna?/ asked the Master with a start.

/Martha. I meant Martha. Of course I meant Martha/

/Then no, we shouldn't. I don't like her/

/You don't like many people/

/Well I _particularly_ don't like her/

/And I know for a fact that she _particularly_ doesn't like you/

/Oh?/

/You really _are_ as stupid as you look! You tortured her family!/ The Master sniffed.

/Let's not go there, shall we?/ So he didn't. He didn't want to spoil the evening, and the Master seemed... almost humane tonight. /Humane? I'm a time lord, not one of your precious humans/ If he had been speaking out loud, he would have spat the last word out. Maybe not, then, thought the Doctor.

They walked down the stairs, along with all the other pairs of students on the way to the ball. Harry and Ron seemed to know everyone.

"There's Neville. Looks like he's found a girl to go with after all," said Ron, pointing to the boy who had been in the common room earlier. He had a small, dark haired girl in a frilly blue dress hanging off his arm.

"And Hermione, with Ginny," said Harry, which made Ron frown. Hermione was wearing a beautiful, floaty pink dress and Ginny was in dark blue. Obviously, the pink would have clashed terribly with her hair.

"She's my _sister_," muttered Ron, but he left it at that. They pointed out other names and other faces, but they simply entered the Doctor's head through one ear and out through another. And then he saw someone out of the corner of his eye who made him stop and turn.

/Is that...?/

/Yes, it's Martha. Come on, I'm bored/

/Who's she with?/

/Don't know, don't care. Come on!/ The Master was getting impatient. The Doctor gazed back at Martha, who hadn't seen them. She was talking animatedly to a tall, heavy set, dark haired man who wasn't wearing dress robes but what looked to be some foreign country's traditional outfit. Martha looked in control again, and much how the Doctor was used to seeing her, as opposed to the frightened, lonely girl who had left them only a day or so ago. He wondered who the man was.

The Yule Ball was to be held inside the Great Hall. As they waited outside it, Harry whispered over his shoulder to the Doctor.

"I forgot to say, Merry Christmas!" The Doctor looked startled.

"Christmas?" He hoped that this Christmas wouldn't be anything like the last one he had 'celebrated'. Or the one before that, to be honest.

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "Anyway, I'll see you later. Champions dance first." He took a rather disgruntled looking Ron by the arm and followed three other pairs to the front of the crowd.

"Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang, Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies," Hermione whispered excitedly from behind. "And Viktor Krum with... who's that?" The Doctor looked.

"Martha Jones," he said.

Eight o'clock arrived, and the time lords were swept forwards by the mass of students. The decorations in the hall were exquisite. The Master had a taste for style, and he was relieved to see that the decorations managed to look both Christmassy and tasteful. The walls were covered in frost, sparkling and glittering in the light from the lamps on the tables. There were garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the ceiling, the amazing ceiling showing the snowy night sky.

/This is amazing/ The Doctor glanced at the Master in surprise.

/I didn't know you were interested in anything other than power, death and destruction/

/I do have style, Doctor/

/I see that now/ He eyed the Master's robes appreciatively.

/Pervert/ But he said it in a jokey way, and smiled at the same time.

They were sitting at one of the tables together when Hermione and Ginny wandered over, clutching at each other and laughing. They sat down with the time lords and picked up a menu each. The Doctor had been wondering about these, because on some tables people were already eating, but no waiters had arrived to take orders.

"Pork chops," Hermione said out loud, and the dish appeared before her. She laid down the menu and began to eat. Ginny followed suit with the turkey option. The Doctor cleared his throat.

"French onion soup." And then: "Mint humbugs."

/Mint humbugs?/

/They were on the menu.../ The food appeared before him in a sparkling golden bowl. The humbugs arrived on a tiny, golden side plate.

/How... amusing/

/What are you going to have?/

/Same as you, I guess. Only minus the humbugs/

/But that's the best bit!/

/You are a very strange man, Doctor/ Then the Master said loudly:

"French onion soup." It appeared before him and he picked up his spoon.

/I'm ravenous/ he told the Doctor.

Ten minutes later, and the Doctor had finished his soup and had moved onto the mint humbugs. The Master, however, had barely eaten a mouthful.

/What's wrong? You not hungry?/ The humbug wrapper crackled as he unwrapped the sweet.

/I'm starving. But I'm not/

/I don't understand/

/I feel like I should be really hungry. I'm supposed to be really hungry. But in reality, I can't eat anything/

/Oh.../ The Doctor looked worried. /Are you ill?/

/You don't get it! There's nothing wrong. I'm just both hungry and not hungry at the same time/

/Just try to eat something? Please?/

The Master managed half of his soup.

/Let's go find Donna/ said the Doctor.

/Who is this Donna woman?/

/Donna? I said Martha/

/No you didn't/

"Hey, Hermione?" Hermione looked up, surprised.

"Yes?"

"You know you got Harry's map back?"

"Yes?"

"Can you do the same thing, but for my sonic screwdriver?" Hermione nodded, and removed her wand from some pocket in her dress. She pointed it at the Master, who scowled at her. If looks could kill, and all that.

"Accio sonic screwdriver." The screwdriver flew from inside the Master's robes and into Hermione's outstretched hand. She handed it to the Doctor.

"Thanks," he said, smiling.

/I hate you/

/That's nice to know/

/Give me my laser/

/No/

"Come on," the Doctor said. "Let's find Martha."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 – Dancing Queen**

The Doctor took the Master by the hand, and for a moment, just a moment, it stayed that way. And then the Master snatched his hand away and they continued without saying a word, as if nothing had ever happened. Martha was dancing with the man she had been with before.

/Who is he?/ asked the Doctor. /You being Mr. Smarty Pants and all that/

/He's one of Karkaroff's students/

/Part of your plan?/

/No/

/I'm simply trying to start a conversation here/

/I know/ said the Master smugly. /And you're failing/

"Martha?" called the Doctor, and Martha lifted her head from the man's shoulder.

"Doctor," she said with a smile, and led the man off the dance floor. She pointedly ignored the Master. "This is Viktor Krum."

"It is good to meet you, Mr.…"

"Doctor," said the Doctor. "Just Doctor."

"Ok, Mr. Doctor. And you?" Krum asked, looking at the Master, who just glared at him.

"Lord Saxon," he said. The Doctor rolled his eyes in despair.

"Ah," said Krum. "Professor Karkaroff has mentioned you maybe once. You are Lord of where?" The Master glared at him again, and the Doctor saw Krum reach for his wand.

/Stop/ he said to the Master. The music changed from the fast song that had just been playing to a slow one, and the Doctor took a chance.

"May I have this dance?" he asked. The Master was going to say no, he really was, but something stopped him. He paused.

"You may," he replied, and amazingly he wasn't even frowning. Martha shrugged.

"Another dance?" she asked Krum, who nodded, and let himself be led away by the older woman.

/He's really fallen for her/ said the Doctor, watching.

/He's a bit young for her/

/True… but she's happy. Isn't that enough?/

/I don't know. Is it? Is it enough just to be happy?/

/You're not happy. You've never been happy. You wouldn't know, Master, what it's like, how fulfilling it is, just to be happy/

/Shut up and dance/ The Doctor placed his hands on the Master's waist and they began to sway in time to the music.

/As you wish, _Master_… Although, I didn't really think that dancing was your thing?/

/Neither did I/ The Doctor could see, over the Master's shoulder, Martha and Krum dancing, Martha leading.

/She's really something, that girl/

/Are you in love with her?/ It was a blunt question, even by the Master's standards.

/No I'm not/ the Doctor shot back. /Whatever makes you come to that conclusion?/ The Master thought for a moment.

/Nothing/ he admitted.

/You're just jealous/ teased the Doctor. /You want more of my attention/

/Why would I want more of your attention? You're in my head twenty four seven!/ They danced some more, and the Master laid his head on the Doctor's shoulder. The Doctor didn't comment; the moment was too good to spoil. Over the top of the Master's head he could see Harry and Ron swaying, dancing the same way as he was with the Master. With his Koschei.

/Don't call me Koschei/ But he didn't sound angry, just slightly annoyed, which was progress in itself. The Doctor laughed out loud and, after a moment's pause, the Master joined in. They stumbled across the dance floor and over to the tables, arms round each other, still laughing.

/What are we laughing about?/ giggled the Master, as the Doctor collapsed into a chair.

/I don't know/ laughed the Doctor as the Master collapsed down onto his lap.

/Doctor?/ said the Master, suddenly serious.

/Yes?/

/I do believe that I am happy…/ They both burst out into hysterical giggles again.

They sat, and laughed, and chatted about mundane things, like Earth sport and the like. The Doctor explained the rules of cricket.

/It's really quite simple. Someone throws a ball at you and you hit it as hard and far as you can with a large wooden stick/ The Master looked completely confused.

/And that's supposed to be fun?/ And then just to get into the spirit of things, he explained quidditch. /Four balls, two teams of seven players and all played on broomsticks…/ he began. He finished with /and the game ends when the snitch is caught/ And then he burst out laughing at the Doctor's expression of utter confusion.

/You're pulling my leg/ said the Doctor. /They can't really fly. They're human! Human, in the nineties!/

/You forget, Doctor, that they're magical/

/Ah yes. That/ The Doctor picked up one of the menus on the table. It had changed from main course to deserts and drinks. /Do you want anything?/

/Yeah, go on, I'll have a desert/ The Doctor showed him the menu.

/What would you like?/

/Hmmm… I'm pretty hungry. I think I'll have the sticky toffee pudding/

/If you're sure…/ The Doctor thought about the way that the Master hadn't eaten his soup.

"Sticky toffee pudding. And… chocolate tart," he said. The dishes appeared in front of him.

/Do you want your own seat?/ he asked the Master, who was still perched on his knee.

/I'm perfectly comfortable here, thank you very much/ They ate, rather awkwardly because the Doctor persistently elbowed the Master in the face, but eventually the Doctor had finished his tart, and was eyeing up the Master's pudding.

/Are you going to eat that ?/ The Master was prodding it with his fork.

/No. I don't know. I feel hungry, but I just can't eat/

/Can I have it then?/

/You really are insensitive, Doctor/ But he let him have it anyway.

There were less people dancing now, and more people just sitting and talking. The music was slower now, more sentimental, and the couples that _were_ still dancing were just that: _couples_. Harry and Ron had given up already and were sitting at a table with Hermione and Ginny, but Neville and the dark haired girl were still dancing.

/Kiss me/

/What?/ The Doctor was shocked. He had never expected this, hadn't even let himself hope for it.

/Go on Doctor, make a scene, cause a stir. Do something worth doing, not because it's right, not because it's noble, but because it's fun/

/Are you… are you serious?/

/Of course/ This time it was the Master who took the Doctor's hand, and he led him away from the tables and into the middle of the still dancing couples. The Doctor's face was flushed red.

/Are you- I mean… What are we-/

/Shhh…/ said the Master, placing his hands on the Doctor's hips. /Now shut up and let me kiss you/ He brushed his lips over the Doctor's, who shivered. /You like that?/ He pushed the kiss further. /Be daring, Doctor. Do something that you want to, for a change/

They stood silently, watching each other. They could hear the sounds of the ball, the music and talking, as if through a thick pane of glass, or as if they were underwater. Everything was muffled, and the world spun around them as they stood still.

/Master…/

/Shhh… You liked that, didn't you/ It was a statement, not a question.

/I… yeah… I mean…/

/Good/ The Master looked him right in the eye, his hands still holding the Doctor's waist. /Because I certainly did/ There wasn't much else to say after that. Oh, sure the Doctor could have analyzed it, but that would have spoiled it, so he left it be. It was something to talk about another day. The Master slipped his hand into the Doctor's. /Come on, let's go outside/ He led the Doctor away from the dancing and out of the large doors. Outside, the moon shone brightly, and there was a faint scattering of stars across the pitch black sky. The paths were lined with rose bushes filled with- the Doctor looked closer- live fairies sitting on the branches.

/Fairy lights- literally/ he said. They explored further, until they came to what looked like a grotto. At the entrance, Harry and Ron were crouched behind a rose bush.

"Shhh," said Harry, turning to face them. They crouched behind the boys and looked around.

"What are we doing?" asked the Doctor.

"Listening to Hagrid and Madam Maxime," Harry answered. Ron shoved him, and they both went back to listening.

"Another half-giant, o' course!" they heard the large man say.

"'Ow dare you!" shrieked the woman, who was even larger than the man. Both of them seemed too big to be real. "I 'ave nevair been more insulted in my life! 'Alf giant? Moi? I 'ave – I 'ave big bones!" She stormed away. Ron stood up.

"Come on, let's go," he said to the Time Lords.

"What's wrong? What was that all about?" the Doctor asked him, and Ron looked at Harry. There was a pause, and the Doctor heard:

/Giants… Harry/

/What?... Problem?/ He attempted to tune them out. Ron turned back to the Doctor.

"He's a giant. You wouldn't understand, muggles don't, but if that ever got out to the governors, well, he wouldn't be allowed to stay here anymore, like Lupin last year." He looked worried.

"Let's just hope no one else heard," said Harry.

They wandered around the garden, following windy paths this way and that, just the two of them. The Doctor swung his hand by his side, brushing the Master's, who pulled it away as if it had been branded by a hot iron, but then moved it back and clasped the Doctor's. They walked like that for a while longer, until they found themselves back at the great entrance doors. They entered, and found that most people were leaving now.

/What time is it?/ asked the Doctor, yawning.

/Not sure. Early morning, I guess/

/Wanna go back to the TARDIS?/

/Only if you don't fly off somewhere. I have unfinished business here/

/No fear. I'm too curious, and we can't leave these people to the mercy of the Daleks/

"Excuse me?" The Master turned. "Lord Saxon?"

"Yes?" he said to Karkaroff, who had snuck up behind them.

"I was wondering, just when will stage two begin?" The Doctor pricked up his ears.

"When stage one wasn't completed correctly?"asked the Master coldly. "It seems never."

"Wasn't completed… correctly," Karkaroff repeated, his face going pale. "I… I don't think I quite understand."

"What did you do with Mad-Eye?"

"Kidnapped him, Lord. He is in my ship on the lake if you wish to see."  
"Then how is he teaching classes? Where is my replacement Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher?"

"I don't know, Lord."  
"I don't know, Lord," mocked the Master. Then he turned to the Doctor.

/Davros isn't supposed to be here. It isn't my fault/

/Of course not/ replied the Doctor. /But it is your problem/ The Master glared at him.

"We'll have to do without Mr. Lotjenon," he said to Karkaroff. "Stage two will be implemented as soon as the last contestant finishes the second task. Be ready."

"Ready and waiting," said Karkaroff, and then he scurried off.

/I'm even more curious now/ said the Doctor. The Master smirked.

/I don't blame you, I would be if I was in your position. Now, are we going back to the TARDIS?/

/That we are/ And off they went.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 – Fatal Attraction**

As the time lords left the great hall, they didn't notice the tall, silver haired man who stood up from his seat and followed them. They didn't see the knowing smile that he smiled to himself as he watched them run, almost skip, over the school grounds towards the Forbidden Forest. They didn't hear his chuckle as he stood behind a thick trunked oak, peeping round like a child playing peek-a-boo. They didn't see him as they entered the small blue police box perched precariously on a tree stump.

"Well, well, well, they made it here at last…"

After waiting for a while he stepped up to the blue door and knocked sharply four times.

OoO

The Doctor was sat on a purple sofa, his long legs curled up beneath him. The Master sat on the beanbag, also purple, on the other side of the room. This was the Doctor's favourite room in the TARDIS, and it seemed to be the Master's also.

They had turned on the TV and were attempting to pick up a signal from the surrounding area. All they were receiving was fuzz and interference.

/Are you sure it's plugged in properly?/

/Of course I'm sure!/

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The Doctor and the Master both jumped.

/Could that be Martha?/ the Master asked.

/Four knocks…/

/I'm going to open the door/ said the Master, waving a hand in front of the Doctor's now pale face.

/Four knocks…/

/What's up with you?/

/Someone once told me, he will knock four times/

/So?/

/And then I die/

Then the Doctor seemed to snap out of it, as if he had been in a trance.

/What?/

/You said you were going to die/ said the Master.

The Doctor laughed.

/I do talk nonsense sometimes, don't I?/

/Hmmm…/

The Master left the room and walked down a long corridor. The Doctor obviously couldn't make up his mind as to what sort of décor he liked, as this was decorated in an unusual blend of pink, green and an alien shade of orange. It really was… disgusting.

The Master snorted with contempt. Only the purple sofa room matched his standards of decorating. He stepped out into the TARDIS control room and opened the door.

"Good morning, Koschei," said the tall, silver bearded man, deftly stepping past the frozen Master and into the TARDIS. "Now, where is your friend?"

"This way," said the Master, coming to his senses. He would let the Doctor deal with this one.

OoO

"My, you do have a large spaceship, don't you?" said the wizard, lifting his purple pointed hat and scratching his head. "And there's only the two of you here?"

"Three, unfortunately," said the Master. He didn't like small talk, and this was beginning to sound worryingly like it.

"So Martha decided to come along for the ride after all," said the old wizard. "I thought I'd seen her."

The Master didn't say anything. He made a noncommittal grunt and led the man further into the TARDIS.

"Through here?" the wizard asked, turning off the corridor and into the purple room.

The Master followed him.

/He's crazy/ the Master told the Doctor, as his fellow time lord looked up from where he was still zapping the TV with his screwdriver.

"Who are you?" asked the Doctor.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," replied the wizard, sweeping off his hat and dropping into a low bow. His beard trailed the floor.

"So what do you think of my TARDIS?" asked the Doctor. "Don't tell me… You've already done the 'it's bigger on the inside' conversation?"

"No," said the Master. "He didn't seem bothered at all."

The Doctor stood up.

"I should have gone to the door. How come I didn't get to hear that? It's not fair, I just get the people who are like… are like… it's not fair. I w-"

/Calm down, love/ said the Master, cutting him short.

The Doctor's mouth opened and shut like a fish but no sound came out.

/Love?/ he asked into the Master's head, but the Master ignored him.

"So, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore-" the Doctor said finally.

"Oh, please just call me Dumbledore," said the wizard. "My full name is much too much of a mouthful."

"Dumbledore," said the Doctor. "Please take a seat."

"Don't mind if I do," said Dumbledore, sitting down beside the Doctor on the purple sofa.

The Master stayed standing.

"I do like your colour scheme in here, it's really very- Oh, you won't get anything out of that. Electrical objects don't work within Hogwarts' borders," added Dumbledore.

This last comment was directed at the Doctor who was still skipping through blank TV channels. The Doctor turned it off in disgust.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Albus Wulf-"

"Yeah yeah yeah. I mean who are you really? The eccentric old man in the wooden hut? The respected professor?"

"The Headmaster of the school."

"Oh…"

"I'd seen you wandering around the castle, Theta Sigma, and I wanted to meet you in person."

"How do you know my name? Why are you calling me _that_ name?"

Dumbledore smiled.

"What name do you want me to call you?" he asked kindly.

"I'm the Doctor. Just the Doctor."

"Very well, Doctor."

They sat for a few minutes, Dumbledore humming softly to himself.

/Perhaps he has a map/ said the Master.

/A map? Oh, like Harry's map. That would explain his choice of names for us./

"I am not the owner of a Marauder's Map," said Dumbledore.

The Doctor could have sworn that the old man's piercing blue eyes were seeing right inside his head. Dumbledore laughed; a tinkly, bell ringing, almost carefree laugh.

/Can he read minds?/ asked the Master.

/I don't know/

Dumbledore looked at them but didn't say anything.

/He's not reading them now/ said the Master.

Dumbledore chuckled.

/Or maybe he is/ the Master said, countering his own argument.

"I can't read minds," said Dumbledore. "I am not practicing legilimency on you. But I can read your thought waves as you talk to each other, just like how you can sometimes read Mr Potter and Mr Weasley's. If you have something to hide from me, abstain from mind talking, if you may."

"Right," said the Doctor. "I still can't get my head around you people! Using magic, humans, in the nineties, using magic. On Earth!"

Dumbledore chuckled.

"You sound confused, Doctor. Now you know that there are things even you never knew."

He took a pocket watch out of the insides of his robes and studied the clock face intently. The Doctor looked over, but could neither make head nor tail of the three pointer hands and the images of moons, planets and stars.

Dumbledore snapped it shut.

"I'd better be off now. Should I see myself out?" he asked, getting to his feet. The Doctor jumped up after him.

"No, no. Follow me," he said.

OoO

The Master was left alone in the purple room.

/Doctor/ he called, wanting to feel the Doctor's familiar touch in his mind, his reassuring presence. He didn't get an answer.

/Doctor/

Again, there was no answer.

His head felt crowded and stuffy from the silence and he realized that he liked the Doctor being there. He liked the constant talking and the constant arguing.

/Doctor!/

He was more desperate now.

/Theta Sigma!/

OoO

"Well, it was nice meeting you," said the Doctor, opening the TARDIS door.

/Doctor/

He jumped. He hadn't expected the Master to call him. He wondered why. Probably to say some snide comment, he reasoned.

"Goodbye. I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you; the Triwizard Tournament is too big of an occasion to miss," said Dumbledore, stepping over the threshold.

/Doctor/

"Of course! We could never miss something as interesting as this. I've never heard of anything like this before, I had never realized that there was such a huge gap in my knowledge!"

He ignored the Master. It wouldn't do to have the other time lord believe he had him at his beck and call now, would it?

/Doctor!/

"Farewell for now," said Dumbledore and the Doctor closed the door.

/Theta sigma!/ came the anguished cry.

This had to be more than just a snide comment, thought the Doctor.

He had never felt so much… feeling… from the Master before.

He hurried back down the corridor as fast as he could; he was almost there, when he heard another knock on the TARDIS door. He was torn between the two but curiosity got the better of him and he turned, ran back towards the control room away from the Master's cries.

He opened the door to find Martha outside, still in her ball gown (which the Doctor suspected had been taken from the TARDIS' wardrobes) and heels.

"Martha," he said with a smile. "I take it you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes," said Martha. "But you promised that you would take me home. I've thought about it, and I've realized I can't just keep running. I'm needed at home. My family needs me."

"What about your boyfriend?" asked the Doctor, his brown eyes twinkling. "Won't he miss you?"

Martha blushed.

"It's not serious; it kind of happened by accident and he needed a date for that ball thing and I was on my own so I didn't see why I shouldn't," she gabbled, stumbling over her words, feeling defensive.

"He's head over heels for you," teased the Doctor.

Martha stuck her tongue out at him.

"Just because I can get a guy and you can't get a girl," she said and she pushed past him into the TARDIS.

"Maybe I don't want a girl," said the Doctor, but no one heard him.

OoO

He was alone.

His head was empty and he was alone.

He curled up on the beanbag, tucking his long legs up to his chest and cradling his head in his arms.

His neck ached from the position he was in but he didn't care. In fact he liked it. He more than liked it. He relished the pain because it told him he was still there, he was still alive. Normally he would be able to tell this from the beating of his two hearts, in time with the sound of the drums, but right now both of them felt swollen, frozen, cracked.

Koschei wept.

OoO

"I'm going to get changed," Martha called to the Doctor.

She burst through a door, her dress flying out behind her.

"Oh, sorry. Wrong room," she said, backing out quickly.

The Master watched her leave and then closed his eyes again.

/Doctor/ he tried one last time, but the attempt was feeble and he couldn't even be sure that the Doctor had heard.

OoO

The Doctor tentatively pushed open the door. He peered into the dimly lit room and felt his hearts skip a beat when he saw the curled up body on the beanbag.

The Master wasn't moving.

/Master?/

He didn't get a reply.

/I'm sorry/ he said, not quite sure what he was apologising for.

The Master sat up slowly and looked into the Doctor's eyes. There were shiny tear tracks staining his face.

/Doctor/ he said and then he closed his eyes yet again.

The Doctor dropped to the floor, wrapping his arms around the Master's still body.

/Master?/

He shook him.

/Koschei, please/

/I need you/ came the Master's weak reply. /I need you close/

The Doctor listened with amazement as the Master let go of his hard outer shell and revealed his hearts.

/I need you too/ he said with difficulty. But after saying it that first time it became easier. So much easier. /I need you/

The Master sat up, pulling the Doctor into his arms.

/I've gone soft/ he said, resigned.

/There's nothing wrong with that/ replied the Doctor, holding him closer.

There was a knock on the door and then Martha pushed it open.

"Sorry to disturb you two love bugs, but I thought you ought to know that there's a dalek wanting to see you. It's outside the TARDIS."

The Doctor jumped to his feet, pulling the Master up with him.

"Crap," he said.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 – To the Rescue**

The Doctor opened the TARDIS door a crack.

"YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!" He slammed it shut.

"Shit," he said out loud, his mind racing. What were they doing here?

"Daleks," said the Master calmly. "I've never seen you so scared, Doctor." The Doctor turned to face the man beside him

"Is this your doing?" he asked, his eyes flashing furiously. "Is this part of your plan?" The Master shook his head.

"Oh Doctor," he said, smirking. "You clearly don't know me very well. I'm surprised. You've been in my head long enough."

"But this is just your style. Recruiting millions of metal cased aliens and trying to destroy the world."

"Oh, no. My style is about getting to you. Spearing the tenderest part of your heart. Using your precious humans against you. The Toclafane were the future of humanity and watching you tear yourself up over that was worth every moment of this Rassilon-forsaken bond."

The Doctor glared at the Master, but quickly realised that doing so wasn't going to help anything. He darted over to the control panel, his eyes searching for his prize. There is was. He reached out and pulled hard on a large, red lever. Immediately the entire inside of the TARDIS began pulsing with bright red flashing lights and piercing warning tones began searing through the air.

"Why did you do that?" the Master asked angrily, shouting to be heard over the sirens. The Doctor didn't seem to notice that the other Time Lord had spoken.

/Why the hell did you do that?/ the Master asked again, this time directly into the Doctor's head.

The Doctor flinched. After that brief period of time where he had his head to himself, this breach of his privacy came as a shock.

/I've always wanted to/ he shot back, once he had regained his composure.

/So it was unnecessary?/ asked the Master, his eyes flashing dangerously.

/Oh no, it was necessary. It just didn't do anything to help. Now... Where has Martha got to? I was sure she was in here only a moment ago.../ he trailed off, glancing around the control room. The lights and sirens were still blaring.

/Can you turn this stuff off?/ the Master snapped, covering his ears with his hands. /It's giving me a head ache/

The Doctor sighed. /You're no fun/ he moaned, reaching over and switching off the sirens and their corresponding lights. /You spoil all of my fun.../

The Master cradled his head. /I need some air/ he said. His voice inside the Doctor's head sounded weak and feeble.

/Go on then/ replied the Doctor, gesturing towards the TARDIS door. /Now what was I... Wait!/

The Master slammed the door shut behind him, sending the Doctor a rather obscene image through their bond.

/Well if that's how you're going to behave.../ muttered the Doctor, turning back to the control panel. The daleks could exterminate him for all he cared right now.

XxX

The Master stood outside the TARDIS, unable to move any further than a foot from the wooden door. It was clear from the destroyed foliage and the tiny fact that he was still alive that the daleks had moved on.

"Stupid bond," he muttered, out loud so that it didn't pass through into the Doctor's head. He rubbed his temples. His brain felt as if it was pulsing, trying to expand until his skull shattered and it exploded out of his head. He paused for a moment. Now, that would be an interesting death. He wondered if he could replicate it in the Doctor's head. It certainly would be fun to watch.

He shuffled his feet, already bored. He edged his toes forward, further away from the TARDIS. His entire body was straining as he pushed against the invisible force tying him to the Doctor's side, but try as he might, he just couldn't move more than a foot away from the small blue box. So he gave up and sat down on a tree root that was snaking its way past the TARDIS. His began to tap absent mindedly on the gnarled wood with his fingers; tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap.

The scream came out of nowhere. High pitched; a woman's scream. It rang through the forest, causing flocks of birds to take flight from any tree or bush they had previously sought refuge in.

After the scream the air was deadly silent. The Master wriggled uncomfortable on the tree root. It was completely against his nature to feel worry or guilt or remorse when other people got hurt but he knew that the Doctor would want to hurry off into the depths of the murky forest on a rescue mission. That man never could resist trouble.

Only a few seconds went by before the Doctor burst out of the TARDIS, tripping over the Master who was still sat in front of the door and falling flat on his face in the mud. The Master burst out laughing.

/That's what happens when you're always trying to be a hero/

/Get up. Now!/

/You get up. You're the one on the floor, Doctor/

The Doctor pulled himself to his feet and dusted off his suit. /Move/

/What's got your knickers in a twist?/ asked the Master, smirking.

"Martha!" called the Doctor, attempting to move away from the TARDIS. An invisible force held him back though, because for the first time the Master had more control than he did. /Get up and come with me/ He gritted his teeth and pulled harder, trying to prise himself away from the Master's grip.

/What's in it for me, Doctor?/ asked the Master. Beads of sweat were appearing on his face but he didn't budge.

"Just do it!" roared the Doctor, and the volume shocked the Master, who lost his concentration.

/No need to shout/ he muttered bitterly as the Doctor dragged him through the forest. /Use your head voice/

/Shut up/

/Or what? You have no power over me, Doctor/

/Oh really? Then why are you following me? Answer that!/

After that, there was silence. Inside their heads at least.

"Martha!" shouted the Doctor. "Martha, where are you?" He listened carefully, but he heard nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees and the occasional howl.

/Is that a wolf?/ asked the Master finally. He didn't like to admit it, but he wasn't keen on the thought of wandering through a forest full of blood thirsty animals with huge teeth, ready to rip him to shreds.

/Dog/ said the Doctor. /Nothing to be scared of/

/I'm not scared!/ lied the Master, hating that the Doctor could read his thoughts.

THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!

/What was that?/ asked the Master. The Doctor peered into the dense trees in front of them. There was a shadow moving towards them.

THUD! THUD!

/Oh brilliant!/ exclaimed the Doctor, with no trace of sarcasm. /Time to meet the locals!/

/I've met enough locals already/ muttered the Master, hanging as far behind the Doctor as he could manage.

/At least try to be friendly/ the Doctor responded, stepping forward towards the approaching creature. "Hello, I'm the Doctor," he said, holding out his hand. "And you might be…?"

The huge creature stepped forward into the light.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts," he said, shaking the Doctor's hand and almost crushing it. "Who's yer friend?"

It was at this moment that the Master passed out.


End file.
